


Never Saw You Coming

by fadeoutslow



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeoutslow/pseuds/fadeoutslow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the 2014 STR driver line up is announced, Jev and Dany meet up, as suggested by the team. Older fic reposted from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Saw You Coming

Jean-Eric's still surprised about the announcement. He'd thought Da Costa for sure, even with the year he's been having, but it's Daniil. _Dany_ , and Jean-Eric hasn't seen him in a while, but he remembers when they were all juniors together. Dan and Jean-Eric were older, spent more time with each other, Carlos and Dany like their younger brothers.

One of the PR girls used to joke about them being a boy band, with Dany as the serious one, Carlos the pretty one, Dan the smiley one, and it's the strangest thing, because no matter how hard Jean-Eric thinks, he can't recall which 'one' he was.

The French one, maybe, the one who gets left behind. The one who'll work harder than anyone else to prove what he can do, the one who'll show them all in the end.

Though if he's honest, he'd rather have Dany around than Da Costa. He doesn't know Da Costa so well, but he seems more showy, maybe a little too full of himself, and Jean-Eric doesn't need a teammate like that. Not ever, but not next year, especially.

He's got his own suspicions about what's going to happen, that Da Costa's merely being given another year to mature enough for F1 and Dany's being sacrificed, put in too early, too young, in order to enable that, but then, who the fuck knows? Jean-Eric's given up trying to understand any decision this team makes. All he wants to do is keep his head down and get on with his job.

And he will, if they let him, if they will ever give him a car that does what it's supposed to, instead of breaking down or catching fire or whatever it is the next disaster will be. 

It's not easy, watching Dan pull away in the points when Jean-Eric _knows_ he's faster, better, but he's determined to use that, make it fuel to push himself even harder.

He doesn't want to think about next year, not yet, but when he's making arrangements for a few days in Italy, discussing his schedule, they ask him if he wants to spend some time with Daniil. _Not really_ , is what he wants to say, but he knows that won't go down too well, so he sighs, tries not to seem too unenthusiastic as he replies, "Sure."

The team feel it will be beneficial for them to meet up outside the factory, at least at first, and Jean-Eric's having visions of some horrifying corporate 'bonding' bullshit, but instead they're instructed they'll be having coffee, not far from Jean-Eric's hotel.

Which suits him just fine, but when the day actually arrives, he's exhausted, having spent the morning going over and over and over tiny technical details that shouldn't be so important, but in this business, everything matters, no matter how small. He considers skipping out on the meeting, then thinks about how that would have made _him_ feel, when he was new, so he makes the effort, however futile he knows it will be.

He's late, though, and Dany's already there, waiting for him, looking around the cafe, hands in his lap like a well-behaved kid. He _is_ still a kid, Jean-Eric supposes, but he looks both older and younger than Jean-Eric remembers, face as solemn as always with that forever turned-down mouth. He stands up, offering Jean-Eric his hand, and they shake, oddly formal. Dany's grip is firm, practised, and Jean-Eric smiles at him as they sit down, order a couple of espressos.

"So," Jean-Eric says. "Big news."

"Yes," Dany says. He grins, almost shyly, and yeah, he seems happy but there's the slightest hint of something _lost_ about him, like he's still overwhelmed by it all, and Jean-Eric can understand that, so he tries to put the guy at ease.

They chat for a minute or two, catching up, but once the waiter's brought their coffees, Dany gets down to it, rapid-fire questions about the state of the car, its weaknesses, its strengths, how it's evolving for next year. It's clear he knows exactly what he's talking about, and Jean-Eric can't help but be relieved.

When Dany stops, finally, seemingly satisfied, Jean-Eric takes a breath, swallows the last of his coffee. He leans back, stretching out his legs, accidentally brushing one of his feet against Dany's ankle, under the table. "Sorry," he murmurs, shifting to one side, not thinking anything of it, but Dany gives him a _look_ , and it's the strangest thing, somewhere halfway between studied and curious, searching, the kind of look that would mean something coming from someone else.

Jean-Eric shakes his head a little, clears his mind. "How's your flatmate?" he asks.

Dany shrugs, glances down at the floor. "I haven't seen him," he says. "Not since."

"Ah," Jean-Eric says, because he knows how that one goes, having been on both sides of that particular equation, the rewarded and the disappointed. "He'll get over it," he says.

"I don't think so," says Dany, and he's right, of course.

"You can't have friends, you know?" Jean-Eric tells him. "Not _real_ friends. It's…" He pauses, tries not to think of Dan. "It's hard, but that's how it is."

"Yes." Dany nods, serious, and Jean-Eric would assume he can't tell him anything about that he doesn't already know.

"But I think _we'll_ work well together," he says, trying to lighten the mood, sound as sincere as he can. "I think we'll be good."

"I want…" Dany says, and he looks away, then back, as if he's deliberately taking a minute to choose his words. "I want to _learn_ from you," he goes on, apparently quite earnest. "You have the experience, I know that."

Jean-Eric smiles politely, because he's too tired for this, for any of it. "Well," he says, a note of finality in his voice, "I guess we'll see."

He stands up, and Dany does the same. Jean-Eric's the one who pays the bill, but it's a Red Bull credit card, so he tells himself it doesn't mean anything, even if he somehow he feels like he's on the world's strangest date. But it's nothing, he's sure.

They're outside, and Jean-Eric's getting ready to say goodbye, detach himself, when Dany looks at him, asks, "Are you staying nearby?"

And the _way_ he says it. There's no ambiguity there, no chance of ignoring his meaning. Jean-Eric would never have suspected, back in the day. But Dany was younger then, still living with his father, and he _is_ Russian, so Jean-Eric supposes it only makes sense.

He's about to say _no_ , turn the kid down as gently as he can, but when he sees Dany's face, the words die on his tongue. He looks so defensive, like he's steeling himself for the rejection, guarded but hopeful, something like loneliness burning reckless in his eyes, something that makes Jean-Eric say, “Sure,” before he even considers the consequences. He gestures in the direction of his hotel, begins to walk, Dany following beside him and maybe there are worse ways to start a successful relationship with your teammate, but right now, Jean-Eric can't think of single one.

The place is just down the block, and neither of them speak as they fall into step beside each other. Dany's shoulders are hunched forward, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and on the ride up to Jean-Eric's floor in the elevator, he looks straight ahead. "You okay?" Jean-Eric finally asks when the door of his room clicks shut behind them, and Dany only nods, briefly, before he _lunges_ at Jean-Eric, grabbing hold of him and kissing him like he's _drowning_ , tongue halfway down Jean-Eric's throat, hands clawing at him desperately.

And Jean-Eric's too shocked to do anything for a second, but then he pulls back just enough, says, "Hey," but Dany doesn't stop until he says, louder, "Wait."

"Sorry," Dany says, sounding panicked, leaping away like he's scared Jean-Eric's about to hit him. "I'm sorry."

"No," says Jean-Eric. He puts his hands on Dany's shoulders, which are well-muscled but surprisingly narrow, bony under his grasp, and draws him closer, grip sliding down to caress his upper arms. "Just…" Jean-Eric says. "How about slower? Okay?"

Dany nods, but he looks confused, almost puzzled, like he doesn't quite understand, and Jean-Eric would love to know who the poor kid's been fucking that that's his reaction, but he's got a few ideas.

He leans in, kisses Dany softly, tongue skimming over his mouth, dipping in and out, slowly, feeling Dany relax under his hands, body starting to go limp as Jean-Eric deepens the kiss, still unhurried, but more forceful.

By the time he backs Dany up against the wall, he's whimpering quietly, sounding far younger than he has any right to, tiny little whines with every exhale, and it's so fucking hot Jean-Eric can hardly bear it. 

He stops, trying to gather himself, careful not to show it, not wanting to seem like he's losing even the smallest bit of control. He needs to be the one in charge here, stamp his authority on their dynamic right from the start. "Here," he says, his hands on the hem of Dany's t-shirt, pulling it over his head as Dany raises his arms obediently, letting them fall back to his sides as Jean-Eric tosses the shirt on the floor. 

He runs his hands over Dany's chest, which is _thin_ , almost sunken, and Jean-Eric guesses he's one of those guys who'll never really bulk up, no matter how much muscle he puts on. It'll definitely be an advantage for him, with the way things are going now with weight limits and the like, but it also makes him look almost disturbingly boyish, immature, and who knows, maybe that'll help his career too. 

Jean-Eric bends, kissing and licking his way down the centre of Dany's torso, thumbs scraping over his nipples, watching as his hips push up instinctively into the empty air. He's actually quite beautiful like this, and it's a word Jean-Eric would have never thought he'd use to describe Dany, but there's something about him, so utterly _consumed_ by need and desire, visibly aching with it in a way that it's impossible to resist.

Jean-Eric kneels, unfastening Dany's jeans, pulling them down just enough, shoving his underwear out of the way, and Dany's _hard_ , so very hard, his cock not long but thick enough that it makes Jean-Eric salivate just to look at it.

His foreskin is already rolled back, and Jean-Eric curls his fingers around, pulls it forward gently, sliding the tip of his tongue underneath the edge. Dany gasps loudly, thrusting forward so suddenly and violently that Jean-Eric has to dodge out of the way. 

Jean-Eric looks up, and Dany's eyes are hazy, unfocused, as he shakes his head. "Sorry," he mutters, the word barely even comprehensible.

"It's okay," says Jean-Eric, and he gets the feeling that's something Dany needs to hear, maybe have repeated to him over and over again until he takes it in, but for now Jean-Eric grabs Dany's hips, pushing them back firmly against the wall, holding him still as he can as he sucks softly on the head of his cock, tongue licking flat on the underside.

He watches, stopping every time Dany looks even vaguely close to coming, and he has to stop a _lot_ , barely even getting started at times. Dany's fists are tight at his sides, knuckles white, the veins in his forearms standing out with tension and Jean-Eric takes hold of his wrists, lifts them, placing Dany's hands on his, Jean-Eric's, shoulders.

His fists rest there for a second, still clenched hard, but then finally his fingers start to uncurl, tentatively caressing Jean-Eric's neck, stroking into his hair. Jean-Eric can hear his breaths, shallow and rapid, and he pulls off.

"Do you want to come now," he asks, "or wait till I fuck you?"

Dany inhales sharply on the word _fuck_ , and says, "Please."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Jean-Eric leans back in, one hand sliding up and down the shaft of Dany's cock, and he doesn't even suck, doesn't do anything, just takes Dany into his mouth and he's coming, thick spurts that Jean-Eric swallows down messily, greedy for it. 

He wipes his mouth, stands up, and Dany's leaning back against the wall, unsteady-looking, eyes wide. Jean-Eric kisses him, quickly, perhaps more affectionately than he should, but it's difficult not to feel at least some sympathy for this kid, the way he is.

"Bed," Jean-Eric says, moving back, trying to smile reassuringly, 

Dany nods obediently, stripping off his jeans, kicking off his shoes and socks, climbing on to the bed, lying face down, and Jean-Eric just barely stops himself from saying _good boy_ , because he gets the distinct feeling that Dany only needs to be asked and he'll do _anything_ , literally anything at all.

He takes off his own clothes, standing at the end of the bed, rubbng himself, looking at Dany's ass, eyes travelling down his body, long legs and narrow thighs. "Turn over," Jean-Eric says, and Dany immediately does as he's told, bending his knees up, feet planted flat on the bed. His cock is limp, spent, but then he's only nineteen, Jean-Eric thinks. "Could you come again?" he asks, wanting to know. "If I fucked you long enough?"

"Yes," Dany answers, his voice hoarse-sounding.

"Huh," says Jean-Eric, thinking, still pulling on himself, lazily. He wanders over to the other side of the room, digging around in his bag until he finds a condom and some lube, tossing them carelessly on to the bed as he climbs up, kneeling between Dany's legs.

He slicks up his fingers, but doesn't dive straight in, circling Dany's hole, one fingertip around and around, barely dipping inside. Jean-Eric watches him, his face, his reactions. Dany has his head thrown to one side, eyes closed, frowning in concentration, his brow furrowed deep. His mouth opens as Jean-Eric slides one finger into him, achingly slow. He's tense, yeah, but not tight, and he won't need much, not at all.

"Daniil," he says, lilting the word, exaggerating his accent and trying not to think about how much it sounds like _Daniel_ , "Daniil, look at me."

Dany turns, gazing up at Jean-Eric, _serious_ , always so serious. "You can touch me," Jean-Eric tells him, and for a second Dany doesn't move, but then he shifts one arm, reaching between his legs and taking hold of Jean-Eric's wrist, grasping it lightly, fingertips across the inner side, over the pulse with barely even a caress.

_Strange kid_ , Jean-Eric thinks, another finger inside Dany, a little harder now, just to see, but he takes it, not reacting further until Jean-Eric curls his fingers up, vicious little hook that hits that _one_ spot exactly right and Dany lets out a long, high moan, his grip on Jean-Eric's wrist tightening almost painfully.

"You like that?" asks Jean-Eric, and it's a rhetorical question, of course, but he wants to _hear_ it. "Tell me you like it."

"I _like_ it," Dany grits out, jaw clenched and he's getting hard again, Jean-Eric sees. He sits back, having to firmly remove his arm from Dany's hold before he can continue, picking up the condom, curling up his lip as he bites the packet open, taking it out and rolling it on to his cock. And he can _feel_ Dany watching him, stare burning into his skin like something palpable.

But Jean-Eric chooses ignore the implications of it, the heat in Dany's eyes seemingly more than simple lust, and instead holds his cock, moving over Dany and pushing inside him. His weight settles down as he slides his forearms under Dany's shoulders, bracing himself as he starts to thrust.

Fast and hard at first, then slower, more measured. Jean-Eric tries to kiss Dany, but his mouth is slack, open, so instead he licks over his lips, his teeth, sucks on his chin, bites his neck. Dany's fingers ghost lightly up and down Jean-Eric's spine, faltering as Jean-Eric speeds up once more, slamming into Dany as he reaches between them. Dany's hard now, fully hard, and Jean-Eric strokes his cock, jerking him, and he should make this last, he knows, but he's suddenly unwilling to wait, the frustration of the past few months building inside him and he lets go, closing his eyes as he comes, the release of tension more of a relief than anything else, but no less pleasurable for it.

When he opens his eyes, Dany's looking up at him, almost awestruck, and Jean-Eric pulls out of him impatiently, throwing the condom on to the floor. He sits back, gesturing at Dany's cock, which is painfully erect. "Finish it," he says, and Dany grabs himself, fist moving almost viciously, furious enough that it make Jean-Eric wince to observe, but Dany's coming, shooting on to his stomach, come dripping white on pale skin.

Jean-Eric leans over, holding Dany still as he licks it up, quick and efficient before he collapses on to the bed. He lies next to Dany, barely touching him, and for a minute he doesn't even think, getting his head back together. 

Dany's very, very still, tension in every line of his body, and Jean-Eric has a choice here, he knows. Because however tough Dany might have had to be in his life, here, in the bedroom, it's incredibly obvious that he's needy as shit, absolutely starving for affection. And that all it will take is one or two more fucks, some judiciously placed kindnesses and this kid will likely be so hopelessly in love that Jean-Eric will have him in the palm of his hand.

It might be cruel, it might be manipulative, and the potential for disaster is so high Jean-Eric doesn't even want to contemplate it, but at least, this time, he'll be the one in control, the one who's calling the shots, not the guy losing sleep over some pathetic, unrequited crush on his teammate.

"Do you have to get back?" he asks.

"No," Dany says. "Sorry, I can go. If you want?"

Jean-Eric doesn't reply, just rolls slightly on to his side, pulling Dany into his arms and then settling back. Dany's stiff for a second in the embrace, limbs tight and awkward, but then he relaxes into it with a happy, audible sigh, his head resting on Jean-Eric's shoulder, one hand in the centre of his chest.

And Jean-Eric strokes Dany's hair, makes a decision, says the words. "It's all right." His voice is soft, gentle as he can, and there's no going back. "You can stay."


End file.
